


The Scars on Our Hearts

by Leela



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Claiming Bites, Claiming Outside of Heat, M/M, Non-Specific References to Off-Screen Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to stop himself, John looked over at Derek, whose expression was so impassive it screamed <em>over my dead body</em>. Something protective, almost possessive, rose in John and, before he could so much as think, he said, "My omega."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scars on Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eeyore9990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/gifts).



> Dear eeyore9990, I was incredibly happy when the mods gave me your name. Your sign-up included far too many of the things that I wanted to write, and picking from them was more difficult than I'd imagined. I hope that I did justice to the few that I did choose. 
> 
> Many thanks to J for her beta work, without which this story would not be as good as it is.

Sheriff Janusz — call me John, _please_ — Stilinski was having the best kind of day. He was on the early shift. The morning had been quiet enough around the station that he'd finished all his paperwork and then packed up and headed for his car, intending to have an extremely late lunch and spend the last couple of hours of his work day on patrol. Like he'd told Maria, who was handling the desk that day, a sunny, cool day in December was too precious to waste behind a desk. 

John's first stop had been the side door of Dubicki's for a zapiekanka with ham, cheese, and mushrooms. Next he went to his favorite parking spot, near a frequently ignored intersection of stop signs, beneath the shade of the tree where Claudia had carved their initials a lifetime ago. 

Grinning as a car screeched to a belated halt five feet past the line, John unwrapped his open-faced sandwich. His stomach growled at the mingled scents of french bread, cheese, and ham. Stiles would kill him, he thought, as his eyes closed in near ecstasy as he took his first bite.

The radio crackled to life, and Jorgensen's calm measured voice filled the car. "998 for possible 240 Alpha Omega in progress at the old Hale House."

"Damn it," John mumbled. The timing couldn't have been worse if Stiles had planned it. 

"Copy that. On our way. ETA nine minutes." Parrish's reply came before John could finish chewing and swallowing his mouthful. Deciding that Parrish could handle a domestic, he reached for his soda.

"Sheriff, you close enough to provide backup?"

Sighing, John put his soda back in the holder and reached for the radio. "About ten minutes out, without sirens."

"Advise flashing 'em. The human omega belongs to you."

John clicked off the radio and muttered, "Fuck," under his breath. Then, he clicked back on and said, more professionally, "Copy that. On my way."

Taking one last, vicious bite of his zapiekanka, John tossed the rest out the window. He had his lights and sirens going before he pulled out into traffic.

About six relatively hair-raising minutes later, lights and siren off, John was bumping down what was left of the Hale driveway. The fire-ravaged bones of the old house came into view as he took the last turn a little faster than usual. 

Five men and one woman were facing off in front of the house, four werewolves and two humans. On one side, Stiles was in full protective mode, standing between Derek and Scott. Derek's arms were hanging loose at his sides and his hands were curled into fists, looking like he was ready to take on the world and let it beat the shit out of him. Scott was flashing his red eyes and baring his fangs at the three alphas in front of them. Not that Gerard Argent seemed concerned in the least, or Deucalion for that matter. Kali, who stood at Deucalion's left, was grinning and flicking her over-long claws in Scott's direction.

They were all far too quiet.

John twisted the steering wheel and hit the brakes just a little too hard. His skidding stop a few feet from Stiles' jeep was pretty impressive, even if he did say so himself, and it got everyone's attention. Letting the red bleed into his eyes, he got out of the car. 

"Heeey, dad," Stiles said with his usual disregard for the protocol, waving his cell phone and answering John's question about who had called it in. "Glad you could make it." 

"Sheriff Stilinski," Deucalion said in a voice as smooth as a silver knife. "My apologies for bringing you out here unnecessarily." 

John hummed noncommittally, because he knew his authority-resistant son far too well to believe that he'd call unless he felt that someone else was in imminent danger. 

"We were simply discussing the need for an omega to have the protection of a pack," Gerard said. "It is the law, after all." 

Stiles and Scott shuffled closer to Derek, whose scowl deepened so much that John had to resist the urge to go over there and protect him.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ John adjusted his stance so that his weight was mostly on his left leg and rested his right hand on his waist just above his holster. "I don't believe either of these omegas fit that category."

"Peter Hale's eyes burn blue in the moonlight." Deucalion twirled his white cane. "Apparently no one in the long term care facility saw fit to report that tiny yet vital detail until this morning."

Parrish's patrol car came up the driveway and parked next to John's. They got out slowly, hands hovering near their guns, and came to stand near John. 

"Sheriff," Parrish said, as much a question as a greeting. 

"The alphas were just leaving," John said, giving Deucalion and Argent his best flat stare.

"No," Argent said. "I don't think we were. Not without the Hale omega."

Unable to stop himself, John looked over at Derek, whose expression was so impassive it screamed _over my dead body_. Something protective, almost possessive, rose in John and, before he could so much as think, he said, "My omega."

Derek's indrawn breath seemed incredibly loud to John. His muscles tensed noticeably, but he didn't protest or deny John's claim. He didn't say anything at all, as if he was tired of fighting, which made John want to walk over to him and hold him.

"Dad?" The squeak of Stiles' voice, the way it broke like it hadn't done in a couple of years, stopped John before he could move and made him aware of the others.

One of Deucalion's eyebrows had winged upward. Kali was growling, and her claws had sharpened. 

Argent snorted with clear disbelief. "I don't think so, Sheriff."

"Are you calling my dad a liar?" Stiles barreled into the silence with his usual lack of flair. "Why else would I call him? Pack protects pack."

"Hmmm..." Deucalion stepped closer to Derek. He tilted his head, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled. "Not that I want to accuse our esteemed Sheriff of telling anything but the absolute truth, however, the Hale boy doesn't smell like a claimed omega. Perhaps we should leave this for tomorrow's auction."

Scott's snarl was truly impressive for a teenager. "Alpha Stilinski would never let one of his omegas go up for auction."

Which was true, but... John swallowed down a sigh and resisted the urge to run his hand through his hair. 

"Then I require proof of his claim." Argent started for his car then stopped and said to John, "The proving ceremony for disputed omegas is at 9am tomorrow, directly before the auction. I'll be waiting."

"As will I," Deucalion said, pivoting on one foot and stalking over to a black Bentley.

Kali bared her teeth at John before turning to follow Deucalion.

Shaking his head at their predictability, John brought his attention to the trouble he'd just caused for himself. 

"Umm... so I'll just..." Stiles flapped a hand in the direction of his jeep. 

"No, you won't," John said. "You'll stay right there until I'm ready to deal with you."

"Oh-kay. I'll wait here then. Nothing better to do than that. Nope, not me."

John rolled his eyes. A sideways glance at Derek proved that he was doing the same thing without so much as a crack in his expressionless facade.

On the other hand, Scott was doing his usual terrible impression of innocence. He was leaning against a nearby tree. He vibrated with tension, and the color of his eyes was flickering between brown and red. His gaze kept moving from Stiles to Derek to John and back again, and he was twitching the way he always did when he'd gotten caught up in one of Stiles' schemes. He was, John decided, a good place to start.

"So," John said, moving to stand in front of Scott. "Anyone care to tell me what exactly happened here?"

Derek snorted and a muscle flexed in his jaw.

Ignoring Stiles who was making _Don't Talk_ eyes at Scott, John focused his attention on the somewhat sane and sensible half of the gruesome twosome. Scott managed to meet John's stare for all of thirty seconds before crumbling. 

"They were being assholes," Scott blurted out then bit his lip before adding, "You know what happens to their omegas. We couldn't let them claim Derek."

"How did they find out Derek was free to be claimed?"

"Peter, as you already know," Derek said, his tone a mixture of frustration, anger, and resentment, threaded through with love.

It was worse than interrogating a suspect. John pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Did your uncle wake up?"

"No," Derek gritted out, as if the single word hurt him.

Before John could figure out how to respond to that, Parrish asked, "Do you want me to take these idiots to the station?"

"No," Stiles jumped in, then asked, "For what?"

"Trespassing?" Parrish suggested. "Being a public nuisance?"

"It was the full moon," Scott said. "Someone ignored the doctor's orders and left the curtains open in Peter's room last night. When the moon caught him, his eyes flashed blue."

"Ah, hell." John ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm guessing that same someone reported that Peter Hale didn't inherit alpha status."

"Must have." Scott's eyes flashed red again. "If I ever find out who it was..."

"You'll do nothing," Derek said.

John nodded. "Don't force me to have you arrested. Either of you—" he glared at Scott and then Stiles "—you know the laws about reporting status."

To John's surprise, it was Parrish who responded. "Bunch of bullshit, invented by old men who were gagging to get their hands on a young omega." His face burned red as everyone looked at him, but he didn't back down. If anything, he seemed to become more resolute, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders.

"Even so," John said. 

"It's totally unfair," Stiles whined, "treating omegas like they're children who can't take care of themselves. Auctioning us off if we don't have an alpha in the family willing to keep us. Makes me want to..."

Derek's eyebrows drew down. All of his attention on Stiles, he clenched his right hand into a fist and shifted his balance onto the balls of his feet. It was the kind of fighting stance that had Parrish taking up a defensive position, Scott raising his chin and putting on his most pugnacious expression, and Stiles throwing Derek the kind of _Bring it on_ challenge that made John's heart ache for his long-dead wife.

Even knowing how easily Stiles could drive someone to the edge of violence, John was so far beyond done it wasn't funny. It didn't matter how often his day went from pleasant to insane in an eye-blink, he was never going to get used to it. Especially when his son was involved in the insanity. 

"All right," John snapped, each word weighted with every ounce of alpha command he had. "That's enough."

Everyone except Derek backed down. 

John cursed silently then said, "Parrish, head back out. I think we're done here."

"Yes, sir." With a nod that was at least half salute, Parrish spun around and headed for his patrol car.

"Stiles, Scott."

Their attention shifted from Derek to John. Both of them looked pretty much exactly like they had as kids when John had caught them doing something that they didn't believe was wrong. The lecture John had planned to give them died on his lips. They had done the right thing this time, protecting Derek from three alphas with a reputation for serial omega abuse. If Argent or Deucalion had gotten their teeth into Derek, he would have been lost, killed or discarded as damaged goods within a couple of years. And with the alphas claiming accident or rebellion, there was nothing John could do under the current laws.

He settled for giving them each a stern look and saying, "Aren't you supposed to be at Scott's house for dinner tonight? I believe you said something about an online tournament that you absolutely couldn't miss. Unless, of course, it doesn't matter, in which case there are some chores that need..." 

"Shit. Tatterdemalion! What time is it?" Stiles checked his watch and then tugged on Scott's arm. "Oh my god, Scott, come on. It's almost four. We're gonna lose our spot if we don't log in soon."

As he walked past John, Stiles stopped and almost pounced on him, giving him a tight hug. "You're totally the best, just so you know," he whispered in John's ear. Then he was off again, as if nothing had happened, half-running toward his jeep, dragging Scott with him, talking a mile a minute, and barely pausing to let Scott respond. 

John watched them go with fond exasperation. 

When he turned back, Derek had nearly reached the burned shell of his childhood home. His head was held high, but there was an air of defiance, of determination and isolation, about him that had John calling out for him to, "Wait."

Derek stopped on the porch, facing away from John. His shoulders drooped, and he hunched inward. The movement was protective, and yet it stretched his t-shirt across his back, exposing the muscles he'd built over the years since the fire. It was the perfect camouflage. Looking strong enough to be a beta had let Derek create the illusion that he was an omega with a pack, that his Uncle Peter had inherited the Hale alpha status from Derek's sister, Laura. Her still-unresolved murder had added to the Hale family body count far too few years after the fire that was one of the department's oldest cold cases.

"You're not my alpha." 

"I could be."

"Why?"

It was a reasonable question, just not one that John knew how to answer. He tried anyway. "I wouldn't wish any of those bastards on my worst enemy." 

His attempt was a failure, accomplishing nothing but putting Derek back on the defensive. "Leave," he said and put a hand on the door handle. The loud creak of the damaged hinges emphasized the near-insult of being ordered around by an omega who wasn't his. 

"No." John caught Derek's arm in a tight grip and held him in place, stopping him from entering the house. Derek stilled, but John could feel the tension thrumming through him. 

John wracked his brain for the right thing to say, but he came up just as empty as he had the day Claudia had challenged him over the last bagel in the university cafeteria. _Try being honest_ , she'd told him back then, and he decided to take her advice again.

"I don't know why," he said. When Derek's only reaction was a twitch of his arm, like an aborted attempt to free himself, John added, "It feels right."

"You don't know me."

"Maybe not as well as I should," John admitted, "but I don't regret making the offer any more than I did all those years ago when I made it to Stiles' mother."

"You're human." 

"So?"

"Humans don't pick werewolves for omegas. Not unless they want to..." Derek trailed to a halt. "Why would you? You can't want that."

 _There's something wrong with the youngest Hale boy. I think someone's hurting him. Don't bother looking for signs,_ Claudia had said. _You won't find any, not with the way werewolves heal, but you might want to talk to Talia about it._ He hadn't, of course, because Talia and most of her pack had been dead a week later. 

Touch and scent, John remembered, were as important as honesty. He moved closer to Derek, came to stand between him and his house. "I don't want that," he said, hoping he was right about what Derek meant. "I'll never want anything that hurts either of us." 

John tilted his head, baring a fraction of his neck above his uniform jacket. He reached out to cup Derek's chin, running his thumb gently over the stubble. An indefinable sound, one that John didn't know how to interpret except that it reeked of desperation, came from Derek. 

"I'm not going to say that I love you or any of those kinds of words, because you know they wouldn't be true." Giving in to his instincts, John brought his other hand up to cradle Derek's head. His fingers pressed against the back of Derek's neck, and he could feel the shiver that went through him. 

"But you could have..." Derek closed his eyes. "Anyone."

"I made the offer to you."

Derek opened his eyes. They shone blue with guilt and grief. "You shouldn't."

"I did." 

Sure that Derek was about to ask why again and take them back around the same circle, John said, "Come home with me. We can have dinner, talk some more, and you can make up your mind."

"What about Stiles?"

"He's staying over at Scott's, probably staying up all night to maim and kill imaginary creatures in an attempt to win a picture of a trophy. As if we don't have enough trouble for him to get into around here."

"All right," Derek said with something that John thought might be a snicker.

*

As soon as the patrol car was back on the road, John called in to dispatch, letting them know that he was off for the night. "Nothing but dire emergencies," he said. "And I mean it this time."

"Copy that."

Glancing at Derek, who was staring out the passenger side window, John considered the taut lines of Derek's neck. Images of what he wanted to do that night, what he had to do the next day, flashed through John's mind. 

He clicked the radio back on. "Sign me out tomorrow. Get Acevedo to take my shift. He owes the whole station more than one for those weeks after the baby was born." 

A pause filled with the hiss of static lasted a fraction too long before Jorgensen said, with none of his usual crisp professionalism, "Everything okay, Sheriff? Those..." Jorgensen hesitated, clearly changing his mind about what he wanted to say, "alphas didn't hurt Stiles?"

John's smile returned. "Everything's fine. In fact, I think Stiles came out on top in that argument. There's just something I need to take care of tomorrow, and I need someone to take the auction duty for me." 

"I'll give Acevedo the good news." 

"If he gives you a hard time, remind him about Murphy's a couple of months back."

"Will do," Jorgensen said, smug and satisfied.

A few minutes after John signed off, Derek said, "It's different from up here." 

"Huh?" 

"Being in a police car. It's almost comfortable when you're not looking at the world through bars."

An uneasy flush went through John. He took one hand off the wheel and ran it through his hair. "Sorry about that. But we had to investigate once a complaint was made about you killing someone."

"Sometimes a wild animal attack is just that."

John wasn't as convinced. In fact he was sure someone had torn Laura Hale apart, methodically and with malice aforethought. He let it go though. They had enough ghosts hanging over them right now, without adding that one to the crowd.

The car was quiet after that, with only occasional interruptions from the radio. When John realized that he was paying more attention to the calls than to Derek or the road, he turned it off. 

Clearly surprised, Derek asked, "Are you allowed to do that?"

"They know how to reach me."

"Hmmm." The corners of Derek's mouth curled upwards. "Maybe I should complain about misuse of taxpayer funds."

"You'd have to be a taxpayer to do that."

"True. Good thing the Hale pack still owns property in the county." Derek's amusement faded, replaced by bitterness. "Not that I'll be allowed to do anything with it, now that they all know there's no Hale alpha."

"Says who?" John ignored the guy speeding past him as he turned into his street. Carter would catch him in a couple of blocks.

Derek slanted him an _are you serious_ look.

"I might not be a Hale, but there'd be nothing stopping you acting for the Hale pack if you were my omega." 

The last two words, their meaning, were like a punch to John's solar plexus. He inhaled sharply, barely aware of stopping the car in the driveway. He still didn't know why he'd claimed Derek in the first place. There'd been other omegas over the past few years, abandoned by their families and bought by Argent or Deucalion, even by Kali a time or two. Some had ended up dead; others only wished they were dead when they were turned back out onto the streets, too damaged and broken to be good for anything except Eichen House.

John squeezed his eyes shut, regret and frustration bitter in the back of his mouth. They were working on getting the laws changed, maybe even had enough votes to get the _Omega Protection Act_ through in this session of the state legislature. None of that would make up for those he hadn't been able to save, those he'd been ordered to hand over to alphas that he knew would use and abuse them. 

Derek's hand on his leg startled John into opening his eyes. 

"You'd do that, wouldn't you." 

It was somewhere between a question and a statement. It made John want to hold Derek close and show him how an omega should be treated. Instead, he laid his hand over Derek's briefly and said, "Let's go inside."

*

The lights were on in the kitchen, but after they'd both removed their shoes, John took Derek in the opposite direction. The living room seemed to warm up as John flipped on the lights and knelt down to put a match to the logs and kindling that he'd laid that morning.

Derek stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. His hands were stuffed in his front pockets, and he was trying to look around without being obvious. 

"I'll get us something to drink," John said, wanting to give Derek a chance to settle himself. "Beer okay?"

"Fine." Derek's response was flat, uninterested, but John left the room anyway. 

After a detour to lock up his gun and toss his jacket over the coat rack, John dithered in the kitchen, taking out beer mugs, putting them back, and getting them back out again. Finally, he shoved them to the back of the counter, opened two bottles of IPA, and went back to the living room.

At first he thought Derek had changed his mind and left. Then, after a quick scan of the room, he caught sight of him at the far side, crouched in front of the family wall. Derek's dark clothes faded into the shadows of the unlit corner. 

Knowing what had Derek's attention, John put the bottles down on the coffee table and went to join him. Needing to ground both of them for this conversation, he rested his hand lightly on the back of Derek's neck. This time, instead of tensing up, Derek leaned into his touch, and something loosened up in John's chest.

After a few seconds, Derek said, "You didn't make her wear a collar."

"Stiles doesn't have one either," John pointed out.

"That's different."

Unable to argue with that, John gestured at a framed certificate that was almost hidden under the overhang from the stairs. "That's our bonding contract," he said. "You can read it if you want."

Derek turned his head. John met his gaze, opening himself up to Derek, even as he felt like he was being silently interrogated. It was ridiculous, really, for an alpha to give an unbonded omega so much power, but John couldn't — _wouldn't_ — bond with anyone he didn't trust. 

"Is that what you'd want from me?"

"Yes."

"Most alphas just want obedience." 

John moved his attention to the last picture of him and Stiles with Claudia. Her smile was bright and easy, despite the lines that pain had drawn around her eyes. An ache opened up inside him, for what he'd once had. "That's their loss," he said, his voice sounding rough even to himself.

A light touch from Derek brought John back, made him see the man in front of him instead of the woman on the wall. 

"I can't promise any of that," Derek said. "Not even obedience."

A chuckle escaped from John. "You've met her son, right? He takes after his mother in that. Claudia wouldn't have known obedience if it had walked up and slapped a collar and leash on her."

The skin of Derek's thumb was rough against John's face, and it took a second for John to realize that he was wiping away tears. It was more caring than John had received from anyone except Stiles in the long, lonely years since Claudia's death.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, and he gave in to the urges that were swamping him — to touch, to feel, to be an alpha to an omega who needed him. 

He gathered Derek into his arms and hugged him tight. He nuzzled Derek's throat and jaw, trying to calm the shudders that were wracking him. 

"It's not just one way," John murmured against the skin behind Derek's ear. "No matter what some selfish, vicious, self-righteous assholes might claim, most alphas need to care for an omega as much as the omega needs the alpha." John ran his hand down Derek's back, tracing the bumps of his spine. "I won't demand anything more from you than your permission to look after you, to make sure you're fed and touched and stroked and given whatever it is you require to feel safe and wanted, part of my family, of my pack."

The last word drew a whine from deep inside Derek, filled with longing. His fingertips, still blunt and human, dug into John's shoulders as he pressed into him and clung to him. His shudders calmed into a fine-grained trembling that John recognized, somehow, as old grief finally rising to the surface. John slid his hand up to cradle the back of Derek's skull. He pressed a kiss against Derek's temple and held him through the storm.

When Derek calmed, when he was no longer shaking, he pulled back a little. His eyes were bloodshot, but dry as a bone. "Don't promise me anything, and I'll believe that you won't break your word."

Reaching up, John ran his finger over the glass that protected the words of his last bonding contract. Then he turned back to Derek, who had been watching his every move. "If you need a reminder, proof of a vow made to someone else and kept for her lifetime, it's right there. Okay?"

Derek nodded. 

"This would be better if we could wait for your next heat," John said, letting Derek go just long enough to catch his hand and lace their fingers together, "but it has to be done tonight for both of our sakes."

"How?" Derek looked lost for a moment, so young that John felt every single one of the years between them. 

"Artificial slick," John said. "I have some upstairs." His face warmed as he remembered the last time he'd used it, how he'd jacked off to gay porn one afternoon when Stiles was at school. 

Derek's nose wrinkled, and his eyebrows drew together.

Resisting the urge to run a fingertip over the vertical line between Derek's brows and smooth it out, John said, "We'll do it again, properly, when you're in heat and making your own slick."

Just the thought of it sent a bolt of want through John that settled in his balls and at the base of his dick. 

"You're too good for me," Derek said, but he didn't pull away. He moved closer instead, touched his thumb to the corner of John's mouth, and then he kissed him.

Derek's lips were soft. His teeth left a slight sting as he nipped at John's lower lip. John licked into Derek's mouth, need flaring hot and heavy when Derek opened up to him without hesitation. God, how he wanted Derek in ways that he hadn't even imagined that morning. 

Fitting a hand to Derek's throat, John crowded into him. The pictures rattled as Derek's back hit the wall. The sound was so close to applause that John was tempted to do it again and again, to show Derek that he wasn't the only one who thought him worth having and keeping. The thought was so ridiculous, so utterly insane that John distracted himself from the idea by deepening the kiss and teasing the points of Derek's fangs with his tongue. 

A rumble vibrated through Derek's chest and into John. He wanted more of that, wanted to draw every sound out of him and know how they all felt. He slipped one of his legs between Derek's, rested his knee against the wall, using it for balance as Derek grabbed his hips and straddled his thigh. 

John moved his free hand down and cupped Derek's ass, encouraging him to rock, to rub, to grind against him. With each thrust, John's dick rubbed against the point of Derek's hipbone. He rolled his hips, breathed in Derek's groan as their dicks touched through the layers of fabric. Again and again, John repeated the motion, reveling in the slip-slide of his pants, the press of his belt against the head of his dick, the way that Derek pushed and pulled and dug his fingers into John's hips. 

So damn good, but it wasn't enough. Derek's whines were growing. John could feel Derek's desperation, and his own need to ease it and to claim him. Taking Derek's hands in his own, John backed away. "Upstairs," he said, when Derek tried to pull him back. "The slick is upstairs."

They moved quickly through the house, bumping into a chair and almost knocking a lamp off an end table. John kissed Derek as they stumbled up the stairs and didn't let him go until they were in the bedroom. Their clothes dropped to the floor or were tossed away before John pushed Derek back onto the bed. He moved to the bedside table and grabbed the slick from the drawer. He reached for a condom. 

"Don't need them," Derek said. 

John's head jerked up, and he frowned. "What?"

"Werewolf, remember? No diseases to catch. No condom needed." 

Closing the drawer, John tossed the lube onto the bed and went to join Derek.

For a moment, all John could do was look. Then he combed his fingers through Derek's chest hair and tweaked his nipples. Derek arched up with a cry, pressing up against John's fingers. The hard length of his dick was hot against John's side, the head slicking more and more with precome as John teased Derek's nipples again and again. John licked and sucked. He touched and was touched. 

John raised his head and reached for Derek's dick, rubbing his thumb over the head. Derek bucked up into his hand. 

"Now would be good," Derek said, his voice rough-edged with desire. 

Swallowing a sarcastic response, John settled between Derek's legs. The lube was cool at first, warming quickly as John pressed a slick finger against Derek's hole. 

Derek twisted, spreading his legs further apart and raising his ass. 

John pushed his finger inside Derek, drawing a groan from him. He thrust in and out, adding more slick as he needed it, and a second finger when Derek demanded, "More."

After the third finger, Derek's hole was stretched open, and John couldn't wait any longer. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, pulling out of Derek. 

He squeezed more lube on his fingers and coated his dick. spent a second admiring Derek, the ridges of his hipbones, and the ripple of his stomach muscles. "So damn hot," he murmured. 

Derek's response was to curl a leg around John's hip and try to drag him forward. 

John shuffled forward, pushing Derek's legs apart as he pressed inside him. 

Derek was hot and tight and being inside him was _oh my god_ close to too much and not anywhere near enough. Derek's hips rose up to take John even deeper.

Need jolted through John, and he couldn't stay still any longer. He fucked into Derek, hard and fast, alternating long and short strokes, and Derek met every single one. They moved faster and faster, spiraled higher and higher. John leaned over Derek, mouthed at his neck, and Derek lost coordination. His fingernails became claws, piercing John's skin. The coppery scent of John's blood mixed with the spicy, enticing fragrance of Derek's need, his acceptance, his desire. 

_Mine_ , John thought, as Derek thrust up against him, arching his neck, baring it, as Derek groaned a urgent, desperate, pleading syllable. 

_Yours_ , he thought, as he mouthed at Derek's neck, licking and sucking. 

"Mine," he said, as Derek called out his name and then he bit into the thin skin over Derek's collarbone. 

"Mine!"

*

The proving ceremony was short and decidedly sweet. Emily Martin, who had been the County Registrar for longer than John had been Sheriff, ignored Argent and Deucalion's demands and refused to allow them to witness the examination. Even Stiles and Scott had to wait outside the examination room. Once the three of them were alone, she poked at the mark on Derek's collarbone, made a notation in her computer, and wished them congratulations.

As they walked out, John stopped at the top of the courthouse steps and looked down at Argent, Deucalion, and Kali, who were standing on the sidewalk, waiting impatiently. Parrish was leaning against a wall nearby.

John slid a possessive arm around Derek's waist and waved their certificate in its manila envelope to get the alphas' attention. "Today's auction is canceled," John announced, "as is every auction for the foreseeable future." 

"The law..." Argent started to say, but John cut him off. 

"All of Beacon Hills' omegas will be claimed, every year from now on."

"You can hardly claim them all," Deucalion said, tapping his white cane on the sidewalk. "I don't think that boy of yours is the sharing kind."

Parrish came to take up a position on the steps. "Sheriff Stilinski's not the only alpha in town," Parrish said. "There are enough of us unmated to take care of our own."

"Yeah," Stiles called out from behind John. "You can't have any of us so you might as well fuck right off."

"Stiles," John said, underscoring his voice with a thread of warning. 

"Yes, alpha," was Stiles' response. It was said so quickly, so perfectly, that John knew Stiles was faking it.

"Come on," John said. "All of you. It's time to celebrate."

He took Derek's hand, laced their fingers together. Stiles and Scott came to stand on either side of them, and the four of them moved slowly down the steps. Parrish and Acevedo fell in behind as they moved past them. 

John paused in front of Argent and Deucalion. "Leave," he said. "There's nothing for you here." Then, without so much as a glance backward, he led his pack home.


End file.
